Universal Truths

#1: No one likes to be poked into consciousness.

My middle bunk was at the eye-level of the conductor as the train arrived in GuangZhou, the poker’s peripherals must have seen my serene sedentary slumber as defiance, judging by the look on her face as I raised my sleeping blind-fold.

#2: You don’t want to be on the wrong side of a government official with a dictatorship to back her up.

A bus into the underbelly of the Cantonese capital and a short taxi-ride to the quay-side took me to my hostel. Lunch was a wonderful experience, not understanding what the Chef was telling me, but him understanding my feeble grasps at Mandarin and soon placing the houses favourite meal in front of me, which was enough to shake the 6am McDonalds McBreakfast McMenu into the Mcstake category.

Posturing for an afternoon of sweat wasn’t difficult given the abundance of Ice-creams and refreshing goodies that the locals thrust at me. GZ’s metro system was a subterranean relief - efficiency and A/C, a dream I had once.

After traversing the city, viewing parks and fighting their resident mosquitoes I found refreshment in the form of Milk, at a Milk Bar.

#3: Milk is best served cold at a Milk Bar.

Rest came easy in GZ, respite from the heat in the relative cool of the night lulls – a stomach full of milk helps somewhat.

The next day I decided to view some orchids after a late breakfast. I would always recommend going to a Chinese Orchid Garden. The next move was to the South China Botanical Gardens, a little out of town, but I do love gardens. You could imagine my delight however when I saw a confused Yank in the subway. Incongruent to his environment, like only an American can be - I imagined a tank in an orchid Garden.

He stuck out like a teenage boy at dawn.

His name was like Magnolia on an office wall. It could have been Andy, but he insisted it was Andrew.

Soon enough we were killing time together, laughing as I slowly withered his façade of propriety and ‘Brit-Slamming’, he didn’t see the subtleties of the tongue that only British people can articulate, undermining their long-standing foes.

#4: Do not walk through woodland at dusk if you do not wish to be feasted upon by Mosquitoes.

Afterwards we met a friend of his and enjoyed an overpriced dinner until we came to pay the bill. We departed and would surely not meet again.

***

There is a very convenient high-speed train between GZ and HongKong. I sat next to a woman with too much money and not enough brains eating KFC and checking her stocks online whilst we bolted through the iconic Cantonese countryside.

Despite a continuously reinforced claim that HK is Chinese, on all flights, trains and busses HK is regarded as an international destination. This is clear when you are trying to cross a simple land border to the ‘New Territories’ in HK. H1N1 Checks, health declarations and an air of cautious oversight as Chinese brothers cross the border to consume only as Capitalists can. British Citizens receive a 180-dayVisa upon arrival in HK, which I see as a form of royalty.

Here is noticeably different from the mainland. Unique language, culture, landscape and people – most prominently my CouchSurfing [www.couchsurfing.com] hostess are what makes this place worthy of a border check.

#5: Most borders can be crossed with a smile and a British Passport.

I caught the relatively expensive subway, which felt much like the London Underground – but cleaner, particularly concerning urine and hobos – with words like ‘alight’ and ‘gap’ and ‘pleasant’, eased into my ears in a familiar accent. I waited for my first meeting with Sze Ki (pronounced C.K.), the young lady who had agreed to have a stranger living in her house for the weekend and show them around her city. When she found me crumpled in a corner sat on my backpack (she was late) – I couldn’t have been happier. A welcoming (and kinda crazy) smile hit me as her clear (but kooky) voice cut the congested air.

Before I could say “Sweet’n’Sour” I was escorted through the fragrant streets of HK to Sze Ki’s family’s apartment. With one of the highest population densities in the world, I expected a cramped living space; I expected ‘Innovative storage solutions’. I’m sure all that was there but in the instant we opened the door my expectations were crowded out by the welcoming smiles of her family and a most delicious smell.

#6: Home-Cooked food trumps all other foods.

Canton to the max was laid out for me, Delicious home-cooked food.

We chatted and by the time Sze we retired, it was coming to sunrise.
We had a fantastic few days together. Sze Ki had the day off work the next day and after applying for yet another Chinese visa we had a fantastic day, enjoying the city and everything that it has to offer. That evening, Sze Ki having waited for the opportunity or a reason for a long time wanted to show me to a reservoir and go for a walk.

#7: The first time that you see Fireflies is an unforgettable experience, best shared with a friend.

Leading Sze Ki through ‘Works Access Only Area’s’ was an excitable affair and we moved to the other side of the reservoir to see what stars we could amongst the air pollution and novel haze of youth and young manhood. We again trespassed onto areas of the damn, taking our time to offend the country both our ancestors built. In doing so, we surely missed the last bus home – something an hour-long wait at a bus stop confirmed.

This being the case we walked the 5-or-so-Kilometers back to our home turf, stopping to enjoy an early morning gorge at a famous but reasonably-priced restaurant. Eyes nearly closed we took the lift up to our apartment and on to could 9.

The next day was an adventure to an offshore Island by daytime, party time by nightfall.

We took a ferry from the central ferry terminal near ‘Central’ HK. A ferry is much the same affair as in Venice; it’s treated as a standard and necessary mode of transportation for suburban areas that happen to be on other islands. Tempestuous weather reminded me of novels that I have read about HK, about fragrant harbours; about stormy cultures and stormed hillsides; savoured foods; and of course the films we have all seen about Bruce Lee. This was a fascinating trip around what I imagined HK to be without road-bridges and sub aquatic subways. Little boats with workers, card-games a rotund foreman and his greasy blackened crew (blackened by both soot and sun). Larger boats with cargos. Purpose and productivity all afloat between rugged islands and urban up-risings.

We arrived at a port settled behind a typhoon barrier. The harbour was full of motion, fishing boats with the lunchtime catch – not to be far overpriced for an evening meal; a few tourists; tenders flying between larger ships laden with gambling opportunities and gossip. When we were moored, not unsurprisingly in hindsight, the first thing we saw was those omnipresent golden arches.

Ignoring the scores of restaurants we persevered around the coast to find bouldering opportunities on a beautiful secluded beach. We were alone besides the amateur fisherman - although I’m not sure how qualified the title is when he had just a line, a hook and a sceptical frown.

We realised we were navigating away from our destination after consulting a 3-year-outdated Lonely Planet. All Sze Ki had told me is that it was some sort of smuggler’s cove…

We had a delicious desert for our lunch; coconut milk, tapioca, ice-cream and fruits I can’t name let alone list (or should I say tag?).

By mid-afternoon we were assaulting our last beach, pressing on to the cove.

We found the cove staffed by a vagrant. A hairy man selling torches. I bought a torch in a Tesco in Guangzhou… ‘Every Little Helps’ so ignoring him we found the outcropping of the smugglers den. A local couple had just emerged exhilarated and helped us down into the cove. And so the phrase goes, a torch with five LED’s can’t light up jack – we bumped our heads on rocks and our bodies on heads and rocks on bodies and heads. We had no idea where we were going in little more than a crawlspace but when the tunnel had passed us we kinda wanted to go again.

We hurried back to the city for the night. Spending awhile to fine some live Jazz, we were defeated by The Funk which crushed The Jazz in the summer of ‘73.

We enjoyed the classic view of central with a few Tinnies and Maltesers, discussing social decay we decided British Cultural Hegemony was alive and drinking tea.

I’m pretty sure that we watched Monsters Inc. that night when we returned home, it was my first time and CK’s *tieth.

***

The next day was spent in a wonderful haze around the Capitalist Stronghold: Central. We saw the oldest buildings in HK, very many Michael Jackson videos played on the street drawing crowds of dozens. I may have been involved in a tacit dance-off with a middle-aged male… but no one told me that.

We took a tram to Victoria Peak after nightfall and torrential rain. This tram however ascended at an average angle of 45Deg. What surprised me is that it coped with the mass of obese American tourists… but it was built in Britain.

A romantic cadence hung over the city from the crests of the clouds at The Peak to the whipping waterways below. I was due to depart the next day.

#8: HongKong Rules!

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